Right on cue, Gifford received a call-back from forensics confirming that the oily stain on the back of the chair in Barrowman’s study was indeed from the cheese topping on a pizza. It seemed this astute, experienced gang of burglars, who hadn’t put a foot wrong in three years, had taken off their gloves to steal and eat the sneaky bootleg dinner of an autistic man.

*

Mathew paid Idris for the pizza with three £5 notes, and then handed over another £5 in coins. This was their routine. Their arrangement; £15 for the pizza, and £5 for Idris to keep his mouth shut. And for Mathew it was worth every penny. There was plenty about life that Mathew didn’t understand, but he understood bribery: if he’s a good boy, he gets ice cream; if Idris keeps their secret, he gets £5. Idris said goodbye, jumped onto his scooter and skidded away down the gravel driveway. Mathew pushed the gate button, knowing that the twenty seconds it took to close was plenty of time for Idris to get out onto the road.

Mathew headed for the stairs, pizza in hand, making a low, involuntary humming sound; this was how he contained his excitement and controlled his urge to eat the pizza on the way back to his bedroom. God, it smelt so good! The humming wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough to mask the sound of biker boots approaching across the tiled kitchen floor.

The first blow from the heavy torch came down hard across Mathew’s shoulder blades, forcing him down onto his knees and then forwards onto his hands. The pizza box shot across the highly polished floor, out of reach. The second blow came from the man with the crowbar. The crowbar hit Mathew’s ribs and forced him to drop onto his side, curled up in the foetal position.

Mathew made no noise at all as the blows fell; shock had rendered him silent. From his position on his side, Mathew looked up to see what was to come next. Four masked men surrounded him. The closest was holding the crowbar, a second twisted a foot-long metal torch in his hands and the last two were unarmed, but their gloved fists were clenched so tight that Mathew could see their knuckles. Mathew desperately tried to make sense of what was happening, why they seemed so angry with him, but it didn’t make any sense. He’d done nothing wrong, except order a pizza behind his parents’ backs, but he was certain that had nothing to do with these men being in his home.